


Panic (on the streets of London)

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Musical References, POV Aziraphale, The Seventies, Worried Aziraphale, late at night in London, maybe read as friendship or romance up to you, so many references, softish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:00:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: The 70s.Crowley passes out after a concert.Aziraphale is panicking a little bit.





	Panic (on the streets of London)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a (great) The Smiths song :)

Aziraphale didn’t know what to do. You could almost say he was panicking.

This was nothing new, of course. Where the other angels always seemed to do whatever was ordered without the faintest hint of doubt and where they knew what to do, when to do it and of course, how to do it, Aziraphale often found himself lost. He didn’t know if he should be doing whatever he was doing, he doubted himself, got into trouble and did things he wasn’t supposed to.

So really, there wasn’t anything too surprising about his not knowing what to do. About this bout of panic. But this was serious. Because Crowley was in trouble, maybe even in serious danger, and Aziraphale was at a complete loss. He understood nothing of what was going on and how to fix it – and he didn’t know what consequences this could have for both him and Crowley if he wasn’t able to resolve this crisis. Panic.

It was a very simple thing, really. The year was 1974, London. Aziraphale had very clandestinely gone to see this music band that was playing. A rock band. So, this was probably not a place where an angel should be, not many miracles to perform there. Aziraphale just loved the raw energy of the people, the joy, the happiness – and of course, the music. So fast paced and raw, devil’s music, really. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Crowley there.

But really, neither of them had an actual motive to be there, so they were glad to see each other and they simply talked about the music, and about the last times they’d ran into the other. Something nice, you know, as the expression went, “catching up”. They only saw each other once every... what, twenty years? So it was always nice to have one of these casual encounters.

Crowley now had a flowy mane of hair similar to the ones of the musicians, and was wearing a black flowery ensemble, not as preposterous as the one on the singer, but still, quite… extravagant. Aziraphale was wearing just a white shirt and some white pants. However underdressed he felt, he knew that jackets and bowties were probably not the most appropriate for such a place as this. They didn’t stand out much though, him and Crowley, as the fans of this band were themselves quite odd individuals.

The issue that caused the panic wasn’t the concert, the concert was great (Aziraphale knew in his hearts of hearts that he shouldn’t be enjoying such devilishly passionate music, but he couldn’t help it) and the conversation wasn’t bad either. But as they were making their way down a street, immersed in a conversation about the use of musical instruments both in heaven and in hell, something happened to Crowley. Something that was probably bad. Something that really looked bad.

It was a dark night in November of 1974. The crowd of the concert had already dissolved, and there was practically nobody on the streets. It was late at night, or early in the morning, it was difficult to tell. It was cold, but not too much. Aziraphale and Crowley were walking round the center of the city, near their beloved park, when it happened.

It was nothing at first, just Crowley stopping in his sentence, stopping to walk. The angel figured that his friend might have remembered something important, or who knew, he might have received a call from his people. Something normal like that. But then he his knees buckled, and he let out something that sounded like a moan, or a sigh, something between pained and sad, and suddenly Crowley’s knees were buckling, and Aziraphale had to help his friend to the floor, as the demon seemed to have lost the ability to stay standing, or keep his eyes open, or just stay conscious. PANIC.

Which made no sense. They were not able to fall ill, and this looked nothing like discorporation. Something was clearly wrong, though, and Aziraphale had no idea about how to fix it. Because this should not be happening, it was not possible. Maybe Crowley was playing, making some sort of joke? Nah, it didn’t seem likely. Neither of them would laugh at this and the demon knew it. But what could it be then? Exhaustion? Some sort of holy water based slow acting poison? Some kind of Demon condition he’d never heard about? No idea!!! MORE PANIC!

Aziraphale looked around, anxiety in his pale eyes, jumped a bit, tried to think. He tapped on Crowley’s cheek, trying to get a reaction, something. But nothing happened, and his limbs weren’t responding and he had never seen Crowley like this and it was scary!! Scary as… Well not as hell, obviously and he’d never been there but he had heard and read the most horrific tales… But this was not the time to ramble. One of Crowley’s arms fell on the pavement and the angel’s panic increased.

Carefully, as if the demon were made of glass, Aziraphale picked him up from the floor, put his arm around him and helped him walk to a nearby bench, so that he wouldn’t look so terrible thrown there on the floor, like some sort of…. Discarded… Pamphlet (the panic was not letting him think right, okay?). Not dear, he sat him on the he put the demon’s head on his shoulder and eventually… Eventually Crowley would wake up and this would be all forgotten. They just needed time.

Even then… Aziraphale knew that waiting it out was probably a poor strategy, that there was a chance that Crowley needed more help than that. And he wanted to help, he really did. Crowley had saved his ass (and his entire body, which he’d grown rather attached to) when he was in France in the revolution, and had helped him more recently with those Nazis as well… Even if he hadn’t, Crowley was the one guy he could talk with freely, without judgement….

“How do I help, Crowley? I truly am at a loss.”

He couldn’t enlist human help, because the first thing they would do was check his eyes with those little lights and go crazy when they saw those yellow snake eyes, he couldn’t get help from his own people, because a) they wouldn’t want to help and b) who knew what kind of punishment would he receive for simply wanting to help a demon. Useless, really. And he couldn’t deal with Crowley’s people. Couldn’t.

“Why would you put me in such a complicated situation, huh?”

He couldn’t just miracle Crowley awake, because there would be records of that and maybe a strongly worded letter wasn’t all that he was given, specially if they found out who was the recipient of the miracle… You can’t even miracle a demon, right? Is that even possible?

Aziraphale thought of books and maybe herbal remedies? But then again, he didn’t know how demons worked, and maybe something else could hurt him the same way holy water did. Maybe the damned chamomile had been blessed and he could be dealing with a demon that was melting on the inside. (Panic!) No, he needed something wild, different, something that a logical mind would never think could work. Something outrageous, like the band from the concert.

“It was a good concert, wasn’t it? I liked the guitarist, he had kind eyes. There was such force in those songs, such art… Better than a four-course meal, I tell you.” And then a thought occurred to him.

He couldn’t miracle, do anything that would mean leaving a track, but an angel’s voice could have some healing semi-miraculous abilities…. It was a long shot, but maybe it was just what was needed. It was so impossible that it might just work.

So Aziraphale cleared his throat, looked either to make sure that no one was around (or at least not too many people) and sang the first song that came to mind, which happened to be one from the group they’d just seen.

“…Anything you ask, I do…. For you…”

He had sung nearly the whole song, falsettos and all, when there was some slight movement in his shoulder, where Crowley’s head had been resting. Aziraphale breathed, finally breathed, and his grin crossed his whole face. Finally!

“Never thought I would wake to hear an angel telling me such lovely things…” Crowley said, still only half awake.

“Never thought I would be singing to a demon.” Aziraphale added, still smiling.

But this was no time for smiles!

“What ever happened to you, Crowley?! You scared the –“not hell, something else!-“ the bejesus out of me!”

Crowley sat, seemingly more awake now.

“It’s a bit of a flaw of this body. Every couple hundred years or so it goes into this sleepy state, no warning. I would change it… But I’ve grown oddly fond of it.”

Reasonable. Acceptable. Aziraphale felt some of his panic dissolve.

“So, it’s nothing anything that will kill you.”

“Oooh, were you worried about me, angel?”

“Of course I worry. You’re reckless and disobedient, and one of these days you’ll get yourself killed. Also, you collapsed on top of me, how could I not worry?”

Crowley smirked.

“Well, I’m glad you were there to wake me up with your song. Let me buy you breakfast to say thanks, all right? What about something classic, a nice full English breakfast?”

“…I could eat.”

What had a nice musical encounter and then became blind panic turned into a lovely breakfast with a chat of centuries past. Fear gave way to relief and now Aziraphale was glad to have a way to fix Crowley should the need arise again.

It was a November morning in London, and an angel and a demon were having a nice breakfast, while songs went by their heads. All angels and demons would cry in indignation if they knew but really… Nobody had to know.

And they knew that they had each other to help when things went sour.

That was the only thing they needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly as a test, to see if I can write for this fandom at all. 
> 
> Did you guess who the band was and what the song is? ;)
> 
> Anyways, hope you liked! Please tell me if you did :) And if you would interested in me writing more for this fandom :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
